


Fine Things

by telera



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Dark, M/M, Objectification, Throat Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 08:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telera/pseuds/telera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt at the kinkmeme: "Inspired by the many pictures of Mads smoking or having a drink -I'm sure you all know the one with the beer bottle- I want:</p><p>Hannibal relaxing in a comfy seat after a long day with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other and listening to classical music. Will on his knees in front of him sucking him off. Bonus if it takes some time for Hannibal to finish so that Will's knees and jaw hurt.</p><p>Objectification, dirty talk, throat fucking and cum play very welcome but not mandatory".</p><p>BE MY GUEST! :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine Things

The delicate yet somewhat sad notes of Chopin's Prelude No. 13 filled Hannibal's office with a calm serenity. It was late in the evening, and the oak and vanilla notes of the Rioja wine tasted smooth and rich in his mouth. It was one of his favourite wines, a Viña Ardanza from the Reserva Especial of 2005, and although some would think it a crime to spoil the wine with the Nat Sherman Classic cigarettes, Hannibal thought the unique flavour of the natural tobacco brought out the structured, faceted notes of the Spanish wine.

 

Hannibal enjoyed the finer things in life. Pity the mouth currently working on his erection was not up to par. Will lacked skill, technique and finesse, and he was not very enthusiastic either. Hannibal wondered how many times he had done this before (three? four?) and to whom. A college friend, a stranger in a bar. Pleasureless, inane experiences, to be sure. But in this, as in everything, Hannibal just knew how to help good Will.

 

He flicked the ash off his cigarette on Will's forehead.

 

The response was immediate, of course. Will's eyes popped open, and he whimpered around his mouthful even as his own cock strained hard and wet.

 

Lesser men would have insulted Will then, indulging in abusive dirty talk to vent their anger. But Hannibal was not angry, just amused. And he knew paying Will that much attention - _dumb, useless hole_ \- would ultimately defeat the purpose of their little game.

 

Zipping up his pants, Hannibal left his armchair and moved to his vintage LP player. He spent a few long minutes deciding which music to play next, and all the while Will gasped and shivered on the floor. Mendelssohn, the Violin concerto in E minor. Something full of coiled energy to unnerve Will and convey Hannibal's silent disappointment in him.

 

When the masterful violin of Janine Jensen echoed in his office, Hannibal sauntered back to his armchair. It took Will a while, but in the end he finally dared to look up at Hannibal. And when he did, his eyes met the impenetrable cover of James Joyce's _Ulysses_.

 

_Being your slave, what should I do-_

_What should I do_ -

 

Will repeated the half-forgotten line compulsively in his head, lost and hard between Dr. Lecter's legs. And waited.

 

Ten minutes later the solo bassoon signalled the change into the concerto's second movement, and as if on cue, Hannibal's left hand pulled his zipper down. Will watched as the hand stroked the hard flesh leisurely,  and after a while the long, elegant fingers felt Will's face for his mouth. Hannibal cleansed the sticky precome on Will's tongue, and Will sucked his fingers, humming around them delicately when suddenly another finger joined, and then _another_ , and Hannibal put the book down to shove them viciously into Will's throat. Will gurgled a scream and flailed, looking in panic at Dr. Lecter's impassive face, who fingered his throat open with meticulous brutality. And when he was finally satisfied, Hannibal grabbed Will's head, forcing him down on his cock to masturbate in his mouth.

 

Will was nauseous when it was finally over, sticky with thick come and saliva and tears. Breathing grated his throat like sandpaper, swallowing hurt like a hundred million needles, and he could barely talk. But it was good. The thought of spending the weekend throat-fucked into complete silence made his cock jerk in exquisite pain.

 

Hannibal walked to the kitchen to hide a knowing smirk. He felt like having a bite, maybe some cool, refreshing French grapes. He was starting to get real hungry.

**Author's Note:**

> Rioja Viña Ardanza :)) Yeah, I come from Spain. And Hannibal does enjoy his jamón ibérico... How could I resist? ^_^


End file.
